


Go Ahead and Scream (You Can’t Hold Out)

by slytheringheights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All The Tropes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Library Sex, Meta, Oral Sex, Smut, Sort Of, very meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytheringheights/pseuds/slytheringheights
Summary: Hermione comes across a series of mysterious red parchments littered around Hogwarts that describe, in detail, her fictional sexual exploits with Draco Malfoy. Who has been writing this fanfiction - and why?***Her eyes adjusted to the ink on the page, scanning the words before reading from the beginning. She caught her name peppered throughout--sometimes “Hermione” and sometimes “Granger.” A flash of anxiety spread through her at the thought of classmates talking about her behind her back. She knew they did, of course. She was Hermione Granger, war hero, Brightest Witch of Her…“What the…” she whispered to herself. Her mind was struggling to process what she was reading. She started from the first line again, brows furrowed in concentration, as if she was reading another language.***A love letter to my fellow Dramione fanfiction stans who have read every trope that this ship has sailed away on.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 41
Kudos: 509





	Go Ahead and Scream (You Can’t Hold Out)

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I have written, but rest assured, I have been reading. Inspiration for this piece comes from YOU, my fellow Dramione readers. Thanks, as always, for reading. Hope you enjoy. :)

She picked it up because of its color. Red. It wasn’t a howler, she could tell that right away. For one thing, it wasn’t shouting its bloody head off. For another, it was peeking out demurely from a stone statue outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. No, this piece of parchment--red parchment, very curious--looked almost like it would prefer to be hidden away, unnoticed. The fact that it was a bold, noticeable red made her all the more intrigued.

Her eyes adjusted to the ink on the page, scanning the words before reading from the beginning. She caught her name peppered throughout--sometimes “Hermione” and sometimes “Granger.” A flash of anxiety spread through her at the thought of classmates talking about her behind her back. She knew they did, of course. She was Hermione Granger, war hero, Brightest Witch of Her…

“What the…” she whispered to herself. Her mind was struggling to process what she was reading. She started from the first line again, brows furrowed in concentration, as if she was reading another language.

***

_ His body pressed her back toward the row of books - her spine flat against the spines of thousands of years of magical history. She felt his fingers flutter the hem of her skirt and swallowed a gasp as his fingertips floated across her thigh. He bent his head so that his lips lingered tantalizingly close to her ear. _

_ “We’ve danced around each other for too long, Granger,” his low voice echoing through her limbs. “All I can think about is how you would taste, how you would feel when I make you come.” She felt his warm breath dance across her neck and she realized she wasn’t breathing. _

_ “Malfoy,” she exhaled raggedly. “The library…not here...” _

_ “Why? Do you like to get loud, Granger? If I were to get on my knees and suck your clit right here, would you scream my name when you came?” _

_ She whimpered, feeling herself clench against her dampening knickers. _

_ “What’s that, Granger?” _

***

She jumped out of her skin at the sound of another person’s voice. “What,” she said, a bit too breathlessly.

“I said, ‘what’s that, Granger?’” Malfoy rolled his eyes as he said it, obviously put out by having to repeat himself. “Your face looks as red as that parchment. Did you find out I got a better score on the potions exam than you?” He smirked, relishing any opportunity to goad her.

“You wish,” she spat back at him, slowly regaining some of her composure.

“So what is it then?” He moved to her side, craning his neck to catch a few words.

“None of your business!” She snatched the parchment out of his line of sight and stuffed it into her bag. She would return to it later - when she would have time to process why someone would write a sexual fantasy about her and Malfoy, of all people. And why she felt a bit sweaty all of a sudden.

The Head Boy put his hands up and began backing down the hallway, smirk broadening. “Ok, ok, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“You know nothing about my knickers, Malfoy!” She yelled, a bit too loud, at his retreating back. His broad, muscular retreating back.

* * *

She startled awake that night - heart racing, breath catching, clit throbbing. As her body settled, her mind caught up to her, flashing scenes from the dream she had just awoken from. Blonde hair gripped between small fingers, pale hands on olive skin, grey eyes peaking through familiar thighs. 

She shook herself. This was absurd! She and Malfoy had reached a sort of detente this year, as they both silently agreed to not let personal history affect their Head duties, but why would anyone think there was more going on between them than barely contained dislike?

She groaned as another errant image flashed into her mind of his pink tongue flicking across her nipples. Why had that filthy piece of red parchment had such an effect on her?

Well, that was hardly a mystery, she scoffed to herself. Ever since her summer fling with Viktor Krum faded, she found herself desperately horny and secluded in a castle with few outlets to satiate her need. Anthony Goldstein was a selfish lover and Ernie McMillan jackhammered his way out of her bed. When she had read the words on the red parchment, memories of how good it could feel returned in full force. And now, uncomfortably, her listless horniness had a face - and it was blonde haired and pointy.

And the writing was really...not bad at all. In fact, the care and detail with which the writer described her pleasure and appreciated her curves made Hermione feel not just exposed, but  _ seen _ . That was something no lover had managed to give her yet.

She flopped onto her side and fluffed her pillow in frustration. Short of obliviating herself, she needed to figure out a way to redirect her awakened sexual energies elsewhere. 

* * *

On her way back to her room after dinner, a flutter of scarlet in her periphery stopped her dead.  _ No way. _

She turned her head and lunged for the red scrap that was poking out from behind a tapestry. She could tell this scroll of red parchment was smaller than the first one she found - about 4 inches shorter. Less a scroll and more of a - what’s the right word? - a drabble. 

She hurried back to her room and felt her core tighten in anticipation. She told herself that she hoped this one was about someone else - but the warmth she felt growing in her center said otherwise.

Once she was safely locked away in her dorm, she sat down in the leather chair next to her fireplace and unrolled the parchment. She noticed two things immediately: one, this scroll was written by a different hand than the first one. Two, her name - and Malfoy’s.

***

_ “Alpha, please,” Hermione whined, clawing at Draco’s strong shoulders, desperate to feel the full, thick length of him sliding deep inside her.  _

_ He growled into her throat, licking his rough tongue across the scent glands on her neck. She thought she would die if she didn’t feel him - all of him, her alpha - inside of her now. She shifted her hips, feeling the tip of his steel length slide across her clit and down to her opening. He growled louder against her skin, the vibrations pulsating down to where they connected. _

_ “I need you, Alpha, please.” She jerked her hips forward, pushing his tip into her gathering pools. His fingers gripped her hips - hard, bruisingly hard - attempting to maintain some measure of control.  _

_ “Mine,” he grunted, before impaling her with his thick, hard cock.  _

_ Stars exploded from behind her eyelids. This was perfect. He was perfect. He was hers. Her alpha. She would make him so happy.  _

_ He licked her nipples, her scent glands, the shell of her ear. Tears of pleasure and need ran down her face and he licked those too. He whispered “mine, mine, mine” as his rutting accelerated.  _

_ “Bite me, Alpha, please,” she whimpered. She needed the world to know he was hers, she was his. She needed to be claimed - completely - by him.  _

_ His eyes widened and flashed with fear, then darkened possessively. She felt his stare all the way down to her clit - she was so close. Almost there. _

_ And then she exploded - mind, body, soul. Her fluids gushed over his cock, still pumping toward his own release. With a roar, he sunk his teeth into her scent glands, claiming her - finally and forever. She felt impossibly full, his seed shooting deep within her as the knot at the base of his cock locked them together in bliss. She wanted to feel him inside of her always - and now, she would. _

_ The haze lifted from his eyes and his heart raced in panic. “Granger, I’m so sorry! I lost control.” His fingers brushed over the bite marks on her neck. _

_ She reached up to soothe the worry lines across his face. “I’m so glad you did,” she smiled at him, content for the first time since she presented as an Omega. “You’re mine, Draco Malfoy.” _

***

The fuck...?

Hermione stared down at the red parchment, bewildered. And, she noticed, aroused. What the actual fuck did she just read? 

She walked to the secret cabinet where she kept a reserve of fire whiskey for particularly stressful moments and made a mental note to check the restricted section for mention of “Alpha” and “Omega.” 

After gulping down two fingers of whiskey, she hurried to the shower, intent on cleansing herself of the lurid depiction of her as Malfoy’s needy “omega.” She undressed, reluctant to notice how the damp gusset of her knickers clung to her folds as she removed them.

* * *

A week later and she still had no idea who was behind the mysterious red parchments. And there were many, all written by different people, littered around the castle. This network of dirty-minded classmates seemed rather robust, but frustratingly anonymous. Who was writing this? And who were they writing for? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

What she did know was that she was horny as fuck. Nipples apparently permanently erect, thighs often clenched, knickers soaked more often than not. She was being tormented by this band of red parchment freaks.

She eyed all of her classmates suspiciously, everyone a suspect. She felt watched, on display, but she saw no stares when she looked around and no whispers either. She looked and looked, but saw no one else with a red parchment.

And of course she began noticing every small detail about Draco Malfoy. How could she not? The amount of times she read about his long fingers, his aristocratic nose, his piercing eyes. Did he smell of sandalwood or mint? (Both, she realized.) Was his Dark Mark faded or pronounced? (Faded, but still visible, she found out when he rolled up his sleeves in Potions to brew a particularly strenuous concoction.) After a week, she decided that Draco Malfoy was indeed a total snack.

She felt sweat bead on the back of her neck whenever he looked at her. She saw his eyes in her mind as she brought herself to climax every night, the release never quite satiating her.

When he sat down in the unoccupied chair next to her in Charms, she stopped breathing. Maybe if she remained perfectly still, he wouldn’t notice how her skin pebbled and her cheeks blushed at his proximity. 

“You got an extra quill I can borrow, Granger?” He had leaned closer to her, whispering his request into the space between them. 

She exhaled slowly and reached down to her bag, careful not to close the space between them further. She dug haphazardly into her bag for another quill when the red parchment she had snatched from between two books in the library and stuffed into her bag just before class fell to the floor. 

She froze, staring at the parchment on the floor between them. He bent to pick it up and she cursed at his pureblood chivalry. 

“Don’t touch that!” 

His hand froze inches above the parchment and he stared up at her. 

“Why not? It’s just parchment.” His fingers reached lower toward the scroll.

She huffed - it was  _ not _ just parchment. But she didn’t want to spark his curiosity further. His long fingers pinched the edge of the parchment and lifted it to her. She snatched it quickly from his hand and stuffed it down deep into her bag, muttering her thanks. She handed him her extra quill and squeezed her legs tighter together when his fingers brushed hers as he took it.

“Red is a rather odd color for a parchment,” he mused, trying to read the reaction on her face. He was probing.

“No more odd than beige,” she attempted to shrug but her back was so stiff, it came off as a jerk. 

He smirked at her then. The smirk she had read about countless times, described countless different ways. Dangerous, dark, glinting, seductive. Knowing. He bit his bottom lip as he pulled away back into his own personal space. 

The rest of class was one torture after another. She saw him twirling her quill in her peripheral vision, not unlike how one red parchment described him doing before those two fingers found their way into Hermione’s fictional cunt. She breathed shallowly, trying not to be consumed by the enveloping smell of sandalwood and mint.

When, at long last, class was dismissed, she bolted from the room and back to her dorm. 

She resigned to skip dinner and stay in her room to study, hoping the soothing words of her Transfiguration textbook would calm her. As she unpacked her books, she saw an unfamiliar red slip of parchment tumble out of her bag. It was too small to be one of the other red parchments she had found around the castle. Uneasy with the thought that someone knew her secret and had slipped this into her bag, she slowly unfolded the slip.

_ Meet me in the abandoned classroom in the dungeon at 10 pm.  _

She was losing it. Absolutely losing it. This shameful little hobby of hers - hunting red parchments - was now blurring into real life.

She took a series of deep breaths and ticked down the minutes until 10 pm while steeling her nerves. She had to know who was behind the smutty missives. Of course she was going to the dungeons.

* * *

“Oh good. You got my note.”

She froze. She knew his voice. She had read its description several times now, imagined it in her ear as she came. 

“Or I guess I should say, ‘notes.’”

He walked into the light from the only sconce aflame in the room. White Oxford unbuttoned at the top, tie loose, shirtsleeves rolled. Hands confidently in his pockets and knowing glint sparkling from his grey eyes.

“You wrote them? All of them?” She looked at him confused, struggling to process that Draco Malfoy wrote smut - quite good smut, actually - in his spare time. Smut about her - and him. But she had been certain that each was written by a different hand.

“Oh yes,” he said, noticing her confusion. “I used one charm to vary the handwriting. One charm to turn the parchment red. And of course one charm to ensure that you were the only one who could see them. Quite complicated spellwork actually. Are you impressed?”

Her mind was struggling to catch up to current events. “Why…” she managed, but trailed off as he approached her. 

“Why?” He repeated the question thoughtfully, his face looking sincere, almost vulnerable for a moment before he dipped his head, lips centimeters from her ear, and said, “Because I can’t get you out of my head, Granger. I didn’t think you would give me the time of day.” 

He lingered there, close, unwilling to make eye contact after his confession. His shaky breaths gave away his nerves. 

She was so worked up from the past week - first, reading vivid descriptions of her pleasure in every possible configuration and then finding her release to be somehow less vivid than she needed it to be. 

“Well, I have some time now.” She hoped her tone was seductive, calm, not betraying how desperately she wanted him in that moment.

He pulled back slowly, as if afraid to break the spell between them. His eyes held a mix of disbelief and need. A passage from one of the red parchments flashed into her mind - a description of how one look from him traveled straight down to fictional Hermione’s core. 

She cleared her throat to bring herself back to the present, to reality. “You are a very talented writer, Malfoy.” She could tell her voice was gravelly and pitched low. 

A devilish grin spread across his features and he stepped closer into her. “Do you think so?” His hands found her hips, his fingers lightly pressing against the coarse weave of her school skirt. He walked her back toward the table behind her, confidence obviously returned. “Which story was your favorite?” 

She gasped as her thighs met the hard edge of the table and his thumbs ran across the edge of her waistband. A rush of images from the red parchments swam through her mind and she found it difficult to focus with his real-life hands running along the curves of her body.

His lips found her ear again and his whisper made her spine tingle. “Was it the one in the Prefect’s bathroom?” He placed a delicate kiss on her pulse point. She exhaled raggedly as she recalled how fictional Hermione’s legs dangled over the edge of the bath as fictional Malfoy licked her to oblivion. 

“Or was it the one where we live in the same dorm, fucking on every surface?”  _ Yes, that one was particularly good _ , she thought as he placed another light kiss along her neck.

“Did you like the one with the Marriage Law?” His hands gripped her tighter then. “Got the idea from one of Professor Binns’s lectures.” She sighed and remembered how hard she came after reading about forced procreation, knowing how much she shouldn’t. 

“Or was it the Restricted Section? I bet it was…” His sinful voice trailed off as he nibbled and sucked her neck, eliciting a low moan from Hermione as she melted into his words and his touch.

He stepped back then and before she could complain about the sudden loss of contact, he pulled a small scroll from his pocket. It was red.

“I wrote one last story. Would you be willing to read it?” He held the scroll out to her.

She blinked at him, still trying to catch up to the plot. She wanted his  _ real  _ hands and his  _ real _ lips back on her  _ real  _ body. But the sight of the red parchment sent a pang of arousal through her. 

“Yes, absolutely.” She snatched the red scroll from him. “Now let’s get back to where we were.” She began reaching toward him to pull him closer.

He chuckled at her eagerness. “No, Granger, I mean - will you read it right now?” His eyes suddenly darkened and his voice fell several octaves. “Out loud.”

Her jaw fell open. “You want me to read - this - out loud to you?” She repeated the request, hoping it would lead to greater comprehension. 

“Yes, Granger, you see,” he stepped close again. “Watching you read is my kink.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. She stood frozen for a moment, the scroll heavy in her hand. His eyes danced around her face, along the exposed flesh of her collarbone, and down to the red parchment gripped in her hands. “Please?” His plea made her knees quake.

She slowly unrolled the parchment and cleared her throat. She began, voice husky and breath shaky.

***

_ “Draco, we can’t! We could get caught,” Hermione panted between moans. Her concern wasn’t very convincing when she had her legs wrapped tight around him pulling his body closer to hers. _

_ “That’s part of the fun, isn’t it, Granger?” He started unbuttoning her shirt. “Try not to scream.” He pushed the sides of her shirt open to reveal her lace bra. Green - his favorite. His hands cupped her breasts and he watched, transfixed, as his thumb swiped over her nipples through the rough fabric. He felt them pebble under his touch.  _

_ She gasped at the friction but arched her back, desperate for more contact. He pushed the fabric to the side, exposing her sensitive nipples to the cool air of the abandoned dungeon classroom. He bent his head low and wrapped his mouth around one of her raised buds, and sucked her rosy flesh between his teeth. _

***

“Holy shit!” She jerked her eyes away from the parchment at the sensation of a cool wet tongue against her nipples. When did her shirt become unbuttoned? She looked down to see Draco Malfoy’s very real mouth attached to her very real, very sensitive peak. 

“You have incredible tits, Granger.” His words breezing across her flesh in between his suckling. He looked up then, briefly lucid and she could see the worry in his eyes. “Is this ok?” 

Her mouth was dry and her tongue darted out to lick her lips, desperate to quench the building thirst. “Fuck yes,” she croaked, unable to comprehend what she would do if he stopped right now.

He smiled up at her then. “Good. Keep reading.”

***

_ He ripped his mouth away from her with a pop and turned her around to face the desk. He leaned his front flush against her back and slid his wandering hands down to the hem of her skirt. Losing his patience and resolve, his fingers grazed the skin under her skirt, traveling higher and higher, until they found the elastic of her knickers and yanked them down midway to her thigh. _

_ His fingers left a trail of light touches as he made his way back to his destination. She was all goosebumps and fire, going mental from the anticipation. She needed him to touch her...right...there. _

_ “Oh god,” she groaned as she felt his fingers caress her opening, running light circles around her slit - almost, but not quite, touching her clit. _

_ “Are you going to keep quiet for me, Granger? Will you be a good girl for me?”  _

***

She slammed the parchment down on the desk in front of her, hands splayed flat against the surface to steady her. Her breathing heavy as she registered the elastic of her knickers cutting into the flesh just above her knees. And Malfoy’s fingers lightly stroking her center.

“Do you like to be called a good girl, Granger?” His voice was close to a growl now. “I wasn’t sure.” His index finger swiped up and over her throbbing clit and she bucked, head falling back onto the strong shoulder behind her. 

“Fuck,” she groaned, desperate for him to press harder.

“Hm…” His lips ghosted along the exposed line of her neck and he nipped at the shell of her ear. “But you’re not really a good girl, are you, Granger?” He nipped and she keened.

“No. You came down to the dungeons in the middle of the night at the request of an anonymous admirer who leaves you filthy little notes. Now here you are with your knickers pulled down and a man fingers deep in your cunt.” He slipped two fingers in easily then, sliding through her slick folds. She whined for more - may have even whispered, “please.” 

“You’re so fucking wet. Moaning and begging for release like a wanton little hussy,” he growled into her hair. She felt her walls clench at the insult. “You like that? That’s your kink, isn’t it? You naughty witch. You’re ready for my cock, aren’t you, Granger?”

She writhed against him, panting “please, please, please,” as his fingers pumped in and out and swiped up to her clit.

“Keep reading, Granger. We’re getting to the good part.”

***

_ He flipped her back around and steadied her body on the desk, leaning into her with his full frame, sucking and nipping and licking across her flesh. She moaned his name, Draco, over and over again as his mouth descended further down her body. Her hands raked through his hair, gripping his locks tight between her fingers, trying to hold on to her right mind. _

_ “The skirt stays on.” She heard his voice from somewhere far below, his hands sliding her useless knickers off her legs.  _

_ “This fucking skirt…” he whispered against her inner thigh. “It barely covers your arse, did you know that, Granger?” He placed another kiss on the inside of her other thigh. “Fucking obscene.”  _

_ He lifted one leg over his shoulder and ran his stubble against her thigh as he took in the sight before him. He glanced up at her to make sure her eyes were locked to him - he flashed her a smile before bringing his mouth to her.  _

_ She let out an unnatural sound, swearing she could feel every ridge of his tongue swipe over her clit. He sucked and circled her clit until she was gasping and grabbing his hair, desperate to hang on. Then he plunged his talented tongue inside her, sliding along her walls, consuming her completely. _

_ His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned, deep into her core, whispering to himself when he came up for air, “you taste…” _

***

“So fucking good!” She screamed into the echoes of the stone walls around them. “God that feels so fucking good,” she gasped, feeling as though his tongue was unraveling her control with every flick of his tongue across her clit.

He chuckled into her opening. Torturously, he slid one his long, elegant fingers into her as he swiped his tongue back to her sensitive nub. 

It was everything she needed and too much at the same time. She crumpled her fist around the red parchment and gripped the edge of the desk, desperate for something to ground her as her body took flight. She bucked her hips against his face and found liftoff, coming so hard and flying so high that she saw stars. 

As she floated back down, she felt the scratch of her throat from the screams.

“I knew you’d be vocal, Granger,” he said with a smile on his lips as he slithered back up her body. “Always so hard to shut you up.” He nuzzled into her neck as her breathing slowed. “Don’t worry, I silenced the room between tastes of your absolutely delicious pussy.”

She whined at how his words kept her on the edge of pleasure, her release too far behind her now. As she loosened her grip on the edge of the desk, she felt the crunch of the red parchment against her palm. She threw the ball of smut across the room and lifted herself on the desk.

“Reading time’s over, Malfoy.”

She looked him dead in the eye while she opened her thighs in invitation. His jaw dropped and she saw the glint of saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth. He launched his body towards her and latched onto her neck, his fingertips touching every cell on her skin.

Hermione reached both hands between their bodies - unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping, until finally, she could grip his long, thick unclothed length in her fist. As skin met skin, Malfoy seemed to crumble into her, his forehead propped against her shoulder for support, cursing on his exhales.

She pumped her fist along his length from base to tip, to take in his size and her core thrummed with the realization that he could split her apart. She canted her hips forward and positioned him at her entrance. Running her lips along the shell of his ear, she whispered her confession.

“Do you know how many times I got myself off after reading one of your stories? Every time, I would come harder than the time before, but I would still need  _ more _ .”

Her ankles locked behind his muscular thighs and she coaxed him forward. “Give me more.”

At her demand, he plunged forward, sheathing himself within her completely. Her eyes watered and she gasped at the sudden fullness.

Malfoy’s eyes widened and his face froze as he registered the grip of her walls around him. 

“How does it feel to be inside me?” Her lips were back against his ear, her voice low and breathy. “I read your descriptions so many times and wondered.” 

She wiggled her hips to encourage him to move. “Am I tight?”

“Impossibly tight.”

“Wet?”

“Drenched.”

“Warm?”

“On fucking fire.”

And then, much slower than he entered, he pulled out, sliding the ridge of his head against her slick walls, and taking her lucidity with it. She moaned and threw her head back and he filled her back up.

“So fucking big.” She was babbling now. “I feel you everywhere.” His pace racing against her words. “Split me open.”

“Fuck, Granger, that filthy little mouth is going to make me come.” He placed his thumb on her clit in warning. “You are a very naughty girl.”

Her walls fluttered around him and his thrusts faltered for a moment as he battled to maintain enough control. His thumb began circling her clit furiously, causing her moans to advance into full-throated screams. 

For the first time all week, she could feel herself reaching for the Big One. The orgasm that would finally satiate her. Her vision blurred and she saw nothing but that light at the end of a tunnel, rushing toward her like a freight train. And then the light was all around her, her body in pieces as she exploded around Malfoy’s very real, nonfictional cock. 

As sight and sound returned to her, she felt Malfoy’s collision with his own release, his guttural scream tearing through them both.

In those few moments - the seconds that stretched between their explosive completion and the words they said to each other after - it felt hazy and surreal. Like a dream or a story they read. A fiction.

When their bodies returned to the reality of the dungeon classroom with the dim light and cold air, Hermione turned to Draco with a smirk.

“You know, that might have been my favorite story of yours.”

“Is that so, Granger? Even better than the Veela one?” He bared his teeth with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, even better than that one. In fact,” She stepped into him, coiled her fingers around the green silk tie still somehow dangling from his neck, and looked at him with intent. 

“I may have a few ideas for the sequel.”


End file.
